


playing fetch

by pistolgrip



Series: heavenbound, together [1]
Category: Granblue Fantasy (Video Game)
Genre: Ensemble Cast, Family Dinners, Gen, No one verbally admits they don't mind Siete, Six-centric because you should come to expect this from me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-16
Updated: 2018-05-16
Packaged: 2019-05-08 00:40:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,627
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14682857
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pistolgrip/pseuds/pistolgrip
Summary: "You gather the ten most proficient fighters in the skydom and you use your leadership powers, flimsy they may be, to summon us so that we can have a meal together?"





	playing fetch

"Ah, there you are."

Calling out to the figure leaning against the railing of the Grandcypher, Siete moves to stand next to it. He's looking out at the night sky, cape blowing in the wind, mask reflecting moonlight. Siete leans backwards against the railing.

"Wanna do me a favour?"

"Is this a mission or a favour?" Six's voice is nearly carried away with the wind, low and quiet.

"A little bit of both," Siete says, "It's been a while since the ten of us got together, hasn't it?"

"And if I am needed elsewhere while being your errand boy?"

"Your concern is touching, but I'll find a way to manage. I'll give you a list of where everyone's dispatched."

"Why aren't you doing this instead?"

Siete shrugs. "Thought it'd be fun," he jokes at first, and then, "the Captain needs me for something for a few days. So make sure you got everyone gathered within a week."

He knows it's not an answer to the question; whether the sound he hears is the wind whistling against Six's mask or a weary sigh, he can't tell. He smiles at the sound nonetheless.

"You can't say you don't miss the dinners."

"Is there a law saying I can't?"

"You ask so many questions. I've made it law. Signed off by Siete, Star Sword Sovereign, leader of the Eternals. If I need witnesses, I'll get Quatre to sign too, sure he'll be more than happy."

To his mild surprise, Six chuckles. His time on the Grandcypher has opened him up; Gran's company is good for him, resemblance to the man he's been chasing aside. His path is clearer, and Siete gets the sense that the light he's been searching for is ever closer.

Siete can still feel something lurking underneath, but it's less turbulent, taking shape, more like a shadow than an immutable darkness. Shadows only appear when there is light, after all.

After a while, he hears Six speak again. "You gather the ten most proficient fighters in the skydom and you use your leadership powers, flimsy they may be, to summon us so that we can have a meal together?"

"I thought I said no more questions."

Six clicks his tongue, but doesn't send him away.

* * *

Funf's magic is most potent at sunrise, and a few times a week, she dedicates time to practicing the intricacies of her spells when she has an immeasurable reserve of power. She's far enough away that no one can find her, nor can she accidentally hurt anyone (or wake Okto up from sleep).

A burst of light explodes out from her staff, and in the illumination of the forest, she senses a presence shadowed where she doesn't expect one. Unfrightened, she bounds towards it, letting the rising sun guide her.

She hears an _oof_ above her as she gives a running hug to Six, who freezes completely before patting her twice on the head.

"Please get off me," he says, voice choking.

"Why do you sound so weird? I haven't even taken your mask off yet!"

Six jumps back; Funf is nimble enough to stay on her toes after the sudden movement. "Don't," he pleads.

"O _kay_ , but it's not polite to hide when your opponent's showing everything!" She readies her staff. She's never tried to fight anyone at sunrise before, and who better than Six, whose strength is in a method so different from hers?

"Opponent? No, I'm not—Funf, please listen," he pleads. His arms are crossed and his fingers are digging in his sides, and Funf doesn't know why he'd be so uncomfortable. Their powers are pretty evenly matched, after all.

Maybe it was because she said she would be sure to beat him next time they fought?

"I just want to pass on a message," Six says stiffly, and then after a second of contemplation, he crouches down so they're eye level. At least, they would be, if he didn't wear his dumb mask. "Siete wants the Eternals to get together so we can have a meal."

Battle forgotten, Funf jumps up in excitement. "All of us?"

"Yes."

"Like we used to?"

"Yes."

In her excitement, Funf lets out more balls of light, floating around the two of them as she dances. She grabs Six's hands and pulls him so he's standing and runs back into town, skipping. "You're telling gramps too, right?"

"I—Well—yes, but—"

"Let's do it right now!"

"Is he even awake?!"

* * *

On the days that Funf wakes up early to practice at sunrise, he too takes extra care to make sure he is also awake, waiting until she leaves for him to meditate. She is full of power and learning how to hone it, and he wants to give her that freedom, but a little part of him can't help but worry.

On the edge of his consciousness, he feels first Funf, strongly, a supernova of magic and merriment, and behind her a more subdued presence, an odd one to be paired with her.

He is already finished meditating when Funf bounds through the front door, holding tightly onto Six's hand. It looks like he's been dragged here and with his free hand, he straightens his hood, shifts his weight awkwardly from foot to foot.

"Six, Six, tell gramps the good news!"

It's certainly Eternals-related news, but what it could possibly be and why Six of all people was the one to deliver it, he hasn't the faintest idea. He nods.

"At the end of the week, Siete requests the presence of the Eternals—"

"We're gonna eat dinner together! Like we used to! It'll be so much fun!" Funf cuts him off before he can even finish.

"Don't talk over others, Funf," he says. Despite that, he chuckles and pats her on the head.

"Sorry, but I'm excited!" Funf grabs one of Okto's hand with her other one, and starts jumping up and down again. Poor Six looks all shaken up.

It has been some time since all of them gathered together. With the exception of Funf, Okto doesn't regularly initate contact with the other Eternals, has never had a situation in which it had been necessary.

There is something to be learned from every person he comes across, and doubly so for the Eternals. It might be enlightening to hear everyone's stories, at any rate.

* * *

_There's something weird in the woods and it ain't me,_ Sarasa thinks. She knows that smell, one she hasn't smelled in a while; it reminds her of the forest after rain has finished falling, when drops of water bounce off the leaves, reflecting moonlight.

"Whatcha doin' round these parts, Six?"

The rustling among the trees falters for a second before resuming. "I came looking for you." She sees his mask-clad face first, the sun shining on it oddly, before the rest of his figure follows.

Sarasa lets out a whoop. "You comin' to fight me? Hell yeah! I've been waitin'!"

Six is quick to dodge the axe that comes swinging down on him. "Will you stop for one second and listen?" She doesn't. Six is always fun to fight, and the opportunity so rarely comes.

"Talkin' ain't as fun as this!" She wrenches her axe free from the dirt and swings again.

"Siete wants everyone to gather together to eat, end of the week," Six manages to grit out.

"Hah?" She lodges her axe in a nearby tree and Six takes the opportunity to slash at her arm. It bounces off her armour, similar to his own and the rest of the Eternals, but she falls onto her back anyway. "'Kay, you got me. What's up with him?"

"He feels like it," says Six.

"And _you're_ actually listening to him _and_ passing it on to the rest of us?" Sarasa cackles. "Whatever, whatever. Sure, I'll come. Is it gonna be a potluck like usual? I got some new things I learnt to cook!"

She smells a spike of fear emanate from Six, just briefly. "I hope for all our sakes, it is not."

"That's no fun. You can't tell me what to do!"

"I suppose I can't," Six mutters before turning around, back the way he came.

* * *

Esser puts her gun back in her holster at the familiar sight of Six's shadowy figure. He rarely visits Stardust Town without a purpose—he doesn't do much without a purpose—and the last time they met, it was to initiate battle while possessed, from what she'd gathered.

But he walks up to the guarded entrance of the town, nothing but a slip of paper in hand. They face each other and nod. Esser waits for him to speak.

A long-suffering sigh emerges from underneath the mask. "Siete summons us. For the end of this week."

"What is it that he wants this time?"

"He wishes simply to dine together again," Six grumbles, and Esser's glad she's not the one passing messages on like this.

"Us?"

"All the Eternals."

Esser sighs, looks behind her into the town. "Just like we used to, huh. Suppose I'll spare you the trouble of finding my brother and tell him myself."

"It would be appreciated."

* * *

"Hey, Esser, what's the holdup?" Quatre walks up to the gate, fearing trouble; Esser normally doesn't take that long to allow people to pass through or to turn them away.

Well, he thinks, walking up next to her, he's got trouble either way. "The fuck are you doing here?"

"Leaving," Six says, and with that, he turns around and walks away.

"That's fuckin' right, you're leaving! Don't come back!"

Ignoring the outburst, his sister sighs. "He was here to pass on a message. Siete wants us to gather at the end of this week."

"Ugh."

* * *

Today, from where she perches, she can see the entire town below her. There are days where she wants to mingle with the townspeople, wander around the marketplace and observe beautifully useless trinkets, play with the idea of getting them. But today, she feels simply like watching, letting the cool spring breeze fan across her face.

It doesn't mean she's not still on guard, but the figure that approaches quietly to sit next to her is not one to be worried about. Without turning to look at him, Song smiles, content to sit with quiet company.

The two of them are far from the isolated people they once were, their wielding of power no longer a blight on their conscience but something to be worked around, to live with. Some things cannot be erased, but not everything has to be done alone.

Six is the one that breaks the silence. "At the end of the week, Siete wants us to gather, like we used to, and have a meal."

Song smiles at the thought of meeting with friends, mismatched as they may be; her time with the Grandcypher and crew cannot be replaced, but neither can the time spent with the other nine, who fought to save her from the brink of ruins, who fought for Six as well (and she knows the two of them will always return the favour).

"I'll be there," she says. They exchange no other words, and when Six stands up to leave, she finally turns to him and smiles. "You will be as well?"

"For better or for worse," he responds, and she thinks she might hear a bit of a smile in those words.

* * *

A melody floats towards her on the wind; this phrase is one she's heard before, but she's never heard it this refined, so embedded in the harmonies that it settles there like one would in front of a fireplace.

The word Nio would normally attribute to a fugue is haunting, a call out to a presence that may or may not exist, intertwining countermelodies that every person hears differently. But this is a reprise, lighter than usual, rapid heavy notes giving way to lighter, more sustained tones.

The observation of a god is struck with fear and awe, after all, and his melody now brings her more of the latter than the former. Nio feels privileged to have experienced such a change over time. "Six. This is rare of you to pay me a visit."

He chuckles, an unlikely yet pleasantly complementary ornamentation to his tune. "I suppose."

"What brings you here?" Her fingers don't stop gliding across her harp, but she quiets, trying to accompany the tune he carries with him.

Six pauses, a breath mark on his sheet music. "At the end of the week, Siete summons us to eat dinner with him."

"Why?"

"I suppose he's lonely," Six muses.

"Surely, with all his bravado, he must have other peers whose company he requests."

She doesn't know what to think of the man; his melody is a frenzy of gaudy ornamentations, almost suffocating in that only someone with immense musical talent could compose a symphony even close to what she can hear from Siete. But he comes and goes in movements, each different from one before but still artfully crafted into one cohesive piece.

"Abuse of power, if you ask me." Six's joke chirps like a songbird flying through the cathedral that plays his fugue.

Nio sighs, not as exasperated as she wishes she were. "I can only hope his melody is quieter on the day we gather."

* * *

Uno knows this is coming. News passed among the Eternals always finds his way back to him, but he's not quite sure what to do with the information that Six will be paying him a visit soon.

As such, he expects the time when Six shows up in front of him. Uno offers to spar, something to pass the time, or an outlet for the restless energy simmering underneath Six's skin, but the offer is refused.

"I simply wish to pass a message onwards."

"From who?" A useless question. He's heard this from the other Eternals he's managed to run into.

"Siete."

"The message?"

"To gather at the end of the week, for... dinner."

That settles it, then. By the looks of it, Six has passed this message personally to every single Eternal; Siete could easily contact all of them if he wished, especially Uno. It's a strange choice to have someone send messages out, and an even stranger one to send Six, who travels largely by foot.

For a second, Uno had worried that Siete had gotten himself in some real trouble this time, that Six's message was some code to be deciphered personally to each member. Now, he can't help but wonder what it is Siete has planned.

"Any particular reason?"

"You would know better than I."

* * *

 "Howzit," Quatre begins to slur, and Esser props him up— "Howzit this Gran guy grabbed half of us—"

"Only three, and willingly," Siete says around a mouthful of food, clearly entertained.

 _"Half_ , 'n' he hasn't joined us? He could. Replace Siete's sorry ass, for all I care—oi," he yells, as Okto cuffs him over the head.

"No swearing when Funf is here." Even with a mouthful of food, the man's presence is imposing.

"Siete," Uno says, whispering to the man next to him. "I thought we banned alcohol from these things?"

"We did." Siete grins, hiding behind his glass.

"And in _your_ hands?"

"I'm the host. I'm allowed. Listen, I'll make you one too. Wait, better idea." Without waiting for a response, he gets up and accidentally knocks his chair against Uno's; the stack of books he's sitting on starts to wobble, and Uno steadies himself on the edge of the table.

It had been a few years since they'd used this lodging, the smallest of their bases on the islands; Siete had apparently spent the week leading up to this dinner renovating when he had time, and no longer was this cabin in some state of disrepair, after having been out of use for so long.

This was, apparently, his reason for having sent out Six. The two of them plus Song make the Eternals who have joined the Grandcypher, and Song was already dispatched on a mission. Never mind the fact that there must surely be a way to contact everyone remotely. Siete never gave him a proper reason, and Six has long since given up on asking.

When Six first walked in, he'd thought of the place like right out of a fairytale—overwhelmingly fake and certainly not written for him. Everything seemed to be worn down by design rather than by natural use; the couch creaking when he sat on it, the carpet fading under his feet. The forced coziness made him feel dizzy, as if he would wake up from a bad dream at any minute.

But Quatre had walked in and immediately yelled, "Siete, you fucker! Where did you get these pictures of us, you damn creep!"

Six stood up to look at some of the frames that had been set up around the house, closer, so he can see them clearly through his mask this time. There weren't very many, but there was a picture of him, Song, and Siete on the Grandcypher; Esser and Quatre, unaware of the camera, the day that some of the Eternals volunteered to help in Stardust Town; Nio, performing for the children that same day; Siete and Uno, younger, peace signs at the camera; Sarasa giving a toothy grin, sitting at the beach; Funf waving at the camera while holding Okto's hand.

There were even newspaper clippings—things that had gone wrong, things that had gone right, all with a hand from the Eternals. There was even one of Six from a few weeks ago, cut out hastily from the Albion newspaper, exchanging blows with Ayer.

"Huh, that's weird," Sarasa says, peering over his shoulder at the newspaper clipping. "Why's the Pitch Black Punisher on our walls if its only us Eternals as decor?"

Six pauses a second, before remembering that Sarasa is, most likely, speaking in complete seriousness. "Siete sent me in disguise to participate. I was the Pitch Black Punisher."

Sarasa snorts and keeps walking through the house, touching the furniture carelessly, picking up vases as if to test their weight. "Why didn't you win, then? Should we have you replaced?"

"We ought to have your brain replaced," Six says, and it falls on deaf ears. He hangs the newspaper clipping right where he found it, and delays going into the main dining room for as long as possible.

It's a bit of a wonder everyone made their way out here, knew when and where to meet despite never having been specific. Same place and same time it always was, but now it's the people that have changed, in ways.

For all their eccentricities, they get along better now than they had the last time they met up. Laughter flows easier, conversation is animated and nonstop, and even the prickliest of the Eternals loosen up.

Including himself, he thinks. A meal means eating, and he's opted to leave his mask on and disconnect half of it, one eye shrouded in shadow while the other is exposed. He threatens to cover back up when everyone makes a big deal of it, and then Sarasa went and accidentally thrown a part of the mask into her melange of forest meats trying to grab a hold of it, which ended that quickly enough.

(He doesn't know what the hell Sarasa could have mixed in that caused some of the paint to peel away, and he doesn't want to know.)

Speaking of, Sarasa's managed to talk Quatre into an eating competition, and Esser long since given up, deciding to follow Nio to a corner and listen to her play instead. Beside Six, Song and Funf's laughter carries lightly, and their faces radiate happiness. Uno is focused more on his food now that Siete has stepped out, and Okto seems to be doing the same thing Six himself is doing; for the most part, Six still keeps to himself during the dinner, savouring the food (that isn't Sarasa's) and allowing himself to be part of the company.

(Song picks a piece of food off his plate and winks at him. Nothing wrong with eating slowly, he wants to say.)

Siete comes back with a tray of colourful drinks, starts dropping them off one by one in front of each Eternal. "As Uno has reminded me, we have officially banned alcohol from these gatherings. I have more or less abided by that, it's a fifty-fifty chance your drink is _actually_ alcoholic," he says, and Quatre stiffens, "but nothing says celebration like colourful drinks."

At his words, Okto takes Quatre's first nearly empty glass and takes a sip. He smiles, which for Okto might as well have been booming laughter. "Virgin."

Quatre's face goes red with anger, and stands up, nearly knocking over his and Esser's twin red and blue drinks. "What did you—"

"The drink," Esser says, now at the halfway point between exasperation and amusement.

"So a toast! To the longevity of the Eternals!" Nine hands come to join in the centre, and after some prodding, Quatre joins too.

"A toast to not having our leader go drunk with power on us again," Quatre says under his breath.

"Low blow," Siete says, not looking like he considers it a low blow at all. (His drink turns his tongue green.)

Six's drink is dark, almost pitch black, but when he holds it up for the toast, the light breaks through with a deep blue colour, swirling and shimmering. The taste is strong, almost overwhelming, but when it's long gone, he finds a sweet aftertaste.

Ten hands meet in the middle again, and the light clink of the glasses is as good as a promise.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> i thought this was maybe a little too self-indulgent but then i remembered that i dont give a fuck "bust, we know you love six, this makes 5 out of 6 gbf fics you've posted that have six in them," why would i write if i don't make what i love? anyway i love six happy birthday to ME


End file.
